Chris@rigdenage

Northern welcome

We traced the edge of the sky
on the gaunt
grey rubbled hill.
Distant on the wind,
a lonely sound
drew us on,
beguiling voice
of a rough-hewn land.
We watched wings dip
and soar
beyond our recognition.
A pensive lament
threaded on the air
securing our hearts to
this wilderness,
unfamiliar home.

 

© Christine Rigden 1989

 


© 2015 Christine Rigden